Questions of Existence
by GhostsThough
Summary: He was a toy, unwanted and unloved, until one day, men cleared out the storage shed. It was then, he had finally been found. (Or when all the Hetalia characters are toys, and Matthew was put away into storage after everyone else was bought, and has a lot of issues to sort through.)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Depending on the response to this story, I will continue this. This is from Matthew's perspective, first person. Everyone is toys, like Toy Story.  
Warning: Panic attacks and existenial depression.**

* * *

 _"Life's only worth living if you're loved by a kid."_

 _~Buzz Lightyear, Toy Story 2_

When I first came to life, I woke up with a start. My head, hands, stomach, and leg were immobile, and I was stuck in a stuffy box with other me's all packed in around me. Not much changed with those facts; I was still stuck, not able to move, even when all the other me's were sold until only I was left. And even then, I wasn't given a chance. There was a newer model, I had heard some adults say, one with accessories that I didn't have.

I was the past, and these 'newer models' were the future. Put into another box, I was placed here. And those memories…well, they never left. Haunting me, day by day like a broken record in my mind was the memory of other toys being bought over and over.

For however long I've been trapped in this place, I often saw men come in with their carrier dollies loaded. Box after box came into the building, the light from the entrance chasing away shadows and being the only times I could see (through a handle cutout in my box) what laid outside this desolate place. There was lush green grass and a limited view of the blue sky above the city scape. It sometimes changed; the ground would be covered in snow or the sky would be gray or rain would be falling. But when their job was done, they would shut the doors, and darkness once again would consume my vision.

There were other toys trapped like me, but even they were quiet. It was like the dark snuffed out our voices, because eventually everyone stops talking.

Winds howled outside, the metal roofs shaking violently. _'Maybe if it gave way, I would be whisked away somewhere else,'_ I thought, the very same thought I mused over every time it happened.

It was there, that faraway place. If I closed my eyes, I could almost feel the light shining down on me and that sense of freedom. No longer would twist ties bind my head, wrists, stomach and legs to an insufferable box. I would be free to move, do what I want, whenever I want. And when I had that freedom – I made a mental list in my head – I would run, jump, and breathe in the fresh air.

But my fantasies…they were hopeless. They would never come true, they couldn't. My wings were clipped, I was flightless, and the weight of reality fell back on my shoulders. I could dream; that was the only thing keeping me going.

I think time in here wears everyone down. We didn't wear physically, but the emotional distance from feelings like love took its toll. We had all once felt hope when on those shelves. The thought that out of all those toys a kid could pick, they picked you specifically, warmed me even when this place freezes, like an internal furnace. It was another fantasy I had, one that had came close to reality from a chance experience.

There was a time when I was almost chosen by a girl. She had big brown eyes, long ringlets of black hair, and a smile that crinkled her cheeks. She had wanted me, begged her Mother even to let her have me.

 _But…_

 _"Martha, that's a boy's toy,"_ her Mother had explained, patting her daughter's head, laughing. _"Put it back, and we'll look at some Barbie dolls, how about that?"_ Though disappointed, I had been placed back where I was.

It had happened sometimes to the other me's, where a kid wanted them, but their parents or guardian wouldn't allow it. But in the end, they were still bought. And well…I had never been given that second chance. The hope of being bought was snatched the day they put me in here.

I'm sure I would've made a great toy. I would have been whatever they wanted me to be just to make them happy. That's all I wanted to do…

One could dream in this place; it's what kept us alive.

–

I was woken up from my sleep when a faint ribbon of light hit my closed lids; I didn't even know I fell asleep. Seems like today was another one of those storage days.

The sun was low in the orange sky, and the men that walked in sipped from Styrofoam cups, the carrier dollies they pushed in strangely empty.

 _'What the…?'_ I strained to hear what they were saying.

"They really let it collect in here, huh?" one asked, putting down his cup on a dusty toilet lid.

The other's joined it. "Well, they're sitting on their asses, eh." There was chuckling. "We just need to fetch the toys though, so that's good," the man said, like he was trying to pacify himself and his partner.

"Yeah," his friend agreed optimistically, turning his head every which way, taking it all in. I shrunk back when his eyes froze on my box, which was closest to the ground. "At least all the toys are goin' towards a good cause."

There was a hum of agreement. "So, the faster we do this, the faster we can get outta here, eh."

Something thrashed in my chest, my belly warming, when I saw that man (the one that looked at my box) come towards me. The memory of a smiling Marsha flashed in my mind.

 _'What's happening?'_ I thought, trying as best I could to relax when suddenly the lid of the box was opened. I couldn't see much – the other box customized for me had its own ceiling.

"Hey Dan, where do we put the empty boxes?" I was lifted, my former prison abandoned, but then I was faced with another; the man began to head towards a bigger and much taller box.

"I dunno…just put them outside Mark, we'll take care of it later, eh," Dan said off to the side, going through some stuff himself.

Hovering over what seemed like an empty pit of darkness, I squeezed my eyes shut, wanting so badly to scream, "NO! DON'T PUT ME IN THERE!" to the man, but my lips remained still.

Then the drop, a feeling of weightlessness, and then the landing: it was all a transition from falling, flight, and grounding. My package was faced up, and I watched in horror as Mark walked out of view.

 _'No…'_ Marsha's retreating back _'…NO!'_ My breaths grew panicked, fogging up the plastic. I tried thrashing to break my binds, but my movements were remained thwarted by my manacles. _'I can't do this again! I can't!'_ Blinking rapidly, mouth gaping, I tried to gasp out a plea. Rules of keeping secrecy be damned…!

No sound escaped. My voice was still only a whisper in my head.

Abruptly, Mark came back, and dropped a plush polar bear overtop of me.

The bear was big, covering most of my view of the gray ceiling with its dusty white fur. Beady black eyes shifted and found focus down at me. A tiny pink mouth peaked out from its muzzle, moving to sound out a soft, growly, _"Who?"_


	2. UP FOR ADOPTION - Discontinuation

I'm sad to report that I am officially discontinuing this fan fiction. As of right now, I am putting this story up for adoption. Please _private message_ me if you're interested in adopting this story.

From now on, I will only be posting fan fictions that I have already completed so as to not disappoint anyone when I am unable to complete it. In addition, I will see about posting more one-shots, as dedicating my time to a multi-chaptered story is not feasible at the moment with my wandering mind. With that said, **_PROMPT_ _REQUESTS FOR FAN FICTIONS ARE_** **OPEN**. However, whether I write your request is up to me, and I will not be taking requests to continue the stories above. When I say I have no inspiration to continue these stories, I mean it. I loved writing them in the moment, but I have moved on to other fandoms.

Please take a look at my profile for fandoms I'm into and would be willing to write a one-shot for.


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